


Regret

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 23:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13305501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: Steve Rogers and the reader go undercover as a married couple to investigate a Peruvian drug runner.





	Regret

 

“You okay, Y/N?” Steve asked.

“Of course I am,” you grumbled.

Steve’s mouth snapped shut even as he recoiled noticeably, exhaled sharply, and returned his attention to the road. You were grateful for the winding road taking you up into the mountains of Peru, grateful that Steve was driving so he wouldn’t stare at you with those crystal blue eyes, blues eyes that seemed to stare deep into your soul. Some days you really hated him.

You sighed inwardly and stared out the window. You could feel his confusion and turmoil coming off of him in waves, as well as an underlying hint of anger. You closed your eyes and with great effort, put up a block, closing off the super soldier, pushing his emotions back at him. He shifted uneasily in his seat, a frown on his face.

When you’d agreed to this mission, things had been different between you and Steve. There hadn’t been any tension, no stupid drunken mistakes on your part, no awkwardness. But that had been two months ago, the time it had taken to set up this intricately planned mission. If only you’d known then what you knew now, you never would have agreed to work with Steve.

The car turned down a dirt road, coming to a stop in front of a large chain link gate. Steve rolled his window down, leaned out, and hit the button on the intercom box.

The two of you were posing as husband and wife weapons manufacturers specializing in illegal alien tech. You were meeting with a Peruvian gun runner, under the guise of selling him a shipment of weapons, which he in turn would sell for a boatload of money. Rumor had it he was selling the weapons to former HYDRA operatives. It was your job to not only stop the sale, but hopefully find the HYDRA operatives and their base as well.

You sat up in your seat and cleared your throat. You squeezed your hands together, twisting the huge, gaudy, fake wedding ring on your finger nervously. You swallowed past the lump rising in your throat and closed your eyes. You needed to calm down or you were going to be completely worthless on this mission.

Steve reached across the seat and took both of your hands in one of his, startling you. You turned to look at him, the blue of his eyes taking your breath away; they always did, no matter how many times you looked into them. Your fingers itched to reach up and stroke his face, run your fingers through the beard gracing his cheeks, the beard he’d grown for this mission. You blew out a shaky breath.

“We’re going to be fine,” he reassured you. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to your cheek, his beard tickling your neck. “Just remember to breathe. And try to remember, I’m your husband, you like me.”

You shook your head, laughing under your breath. It shouldn’t be so hard to pretend you liked Steve. You were only in love with him. The hard part would be pretending he hadn’t rejected you.

The gate swung open. Steve dropped the car into gear and drove through.

* * *

“I think we should go back to the hotel,” you hissed.

Steve wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close, his lips pressed to your ear. “We can’t,” he whispered. “Eyal is already suspicious. If we refuse his invitation, it won’t look good.”

You chanced a quick look at the man in question. Eyal Quiroga. He was holding court over everyone from his seat in the corner of the room. Two armed guards stood on either side of him, as well as at each entrance to the room - one leading outside and two more, one on each end of the room. An immense dining table, covered with food, dominated the room. There were about twenty people in attendance, including Eyal, his guards, and other employees, along with several other weapons manufacturers. Eyal was nothing if not thorough, bringing in not only you and Steve, but at least three others, all in the name of capitalism. Or so he said. More like he was trying to get the most bang for his buck. Competition would assure that would happen.

You forced a smile onto your face when the man in question looked your way, then you turned back to Steve, stepping in close to him, hoping it looked as if the two of you were sharing an intimate moment.

“I don’t know about this,” you whispered. “Are you sure he -?”

“Take a breath, Y/N, and focus,” Steve murmured, leading you across the room to a small loveseat set against the wall, slightly obscured by a few potted plants. He sat down beside you, one arm around your waist, holding you tight against his side. “Let it in.”

You did as he said and took a sharp breath in through your mouth. You closed your eyes as you blew it out, then you opened yourself to the emotions in the room.

_ Irritation - the man in the black suit in the center of the room talking to two other men. _

_ Envy - a petite woman standing alone near the table laden with food, staring at you and Steve. _

_ Fear - one of the guards standing quietly beside Eyal. _

_ Doubt, suspicion, anger - from Eyal as his eyes flitted around the room, settling on each person in turn. _

But there was one emotion overriding all the others, pushing them aside, so strong, so close, so overwhelming, it felt like a punch to the gut, rolling over you. Desire. And it was coming from the man sitting beside you.

You gasped, your eyes flying open, locking on Steve’s.

“What the fu -?”

Steve’s mouth closed over yours, cutting you off. He crushed you to his chest, one hand on the back of your head, his fingers tangled in your hair, his other resting on your hip, squeezing, releasing, squeezing, releasing.

Kissing him was intoxicating, making you punch drunk with lust, desire, need, your own emotions ramped up, feeding off of those coming from Steve. Until he pushed you away.

“Y/N, stop,” he groaned.

Regret flooded you, not your own, but Steve’s. You shoved yourself to your feet, stumbling back a few steps. Steve reached for you, but you shook your head, hand up, keeping him at bay. 

“Y/N,” he muttered. “Keep it together.”

You nodded, gritting your teeth, pushing the emotions out of your head, his, yours, everyone’s, pushing them away, locking yourself down, keeping them where you wanted them. Out of your head. You grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Okay,” you mumbled. “Okay. I got this. Tell Eyal we’ll stay.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you snapped. “Anything to get this mission over.”

* * *

“Please, senor, if you need anything, you’ll let me know?” the woman standing at the door said.

“Yes, Anita, I will, thank you,” Steve smiled. “Please thank Senor Quiroga for his hospitality, won’t you?”

“Si, si,” the woman nodded helpfully. “Absolutely.”

Steve closed the door gently, leaving Anita still nodding and smiling. He set your bags on the footstool at the end of the bed before sitting in one of the strategically placed chairs in the spacious bedroom you’d been given for the night. He scrubbed his hands up and down his thighs and cleared his throat.

“Alright, Y/N, let me have it,” he said.

You shook your head and laughed. You were still desperately keeping yourself locked down, not letting any emotions in. Or out. It was making your skin crawl, like tiny spiders were all over you, scratching at you, at your emotions, trying to get you to open up.

“Let you have what, Steve?” you sighed.

“You’re pissed at me. I don’t have to be an empath to see that.” He picked at a piece of invisible lint of his shirt. “What did I do this time?”

This time. Implying that you’d been pissed at him on multiple occasions. Not exactly inaccurate.

“I don’t what to talk about this,” you mumbled, grabbing a couple of pillows off the bed and throwing them to the floor. “I’m okay with the floor, you can take the bed.”

The super soldier moved so fast you didn’t even see him  _ move _ , didn’t realize he had until you blinked and he was standing in front of you, trapping you between the wall, the bed, and his body.

“Why are you angry with me?” he asked, leaning over you, blue eyes flashing.

“Steve,” you sighed.

“Answer the question,” he demanded. “Answer the damn question and I’ll leave you alone.”

“I sensed your regret, okay?” you cried. “When you stopped kissing me, when you pushed me away, I could feel your regret, could feel it crawling all over me.” The wall fell and the emotions rushed over you; Steve - confused, angry, irritated, ashamed, and your own emotions, crippling you with their depth. You sagged against the wall, one hand on the bedpost holding yourself upright. A sob escaped you.

Steve fell back a step, his confusion now the strongest emotion coming from him. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” you snapped, the tears now flowing down your face. “Regret, Steve. I felt it after you kissed me. And it’s not the first time. Two months ago -” You slapped a hand over your mouth. You hadn’t meant to bring that up.

“Two months ago? You mean after that party at the compound? Is that what you’re talking about?” He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Y/N, you were drunk. I didn’t want you to do something  _ you _  would regret.”

“No,” you argued. “You rejected me after I made myself vulnerable to you. You dragged me half naked back to my room and deposited me in my bed, alone, muttering some crap about how it wasn’t the right time. Then the next day all I could feel from you, all I’ve felt from you for the last two months, is contrition, remorse, in one way or another. Nothing makes a woman feel lower than the man she loves rejecting her and feeling sorry for her.”

You’d done it again. Not only had you brought up that humiliating night two months ago, but now you’d blurted out that you loved Steve. The emotions ramping their way through you were making you insane.

“Jesus, I need to stop talking,” you groaned.

“Yeah, you do,” Steve growled, grabbing your arm and yanking you against him. His lips crashed into yours, the kiss hard and bruising. You were both panting when he released you. “I don’t regret kissing you, I don’t regret that you came to my room that night. What I regret is that nothing happened. I regret that you were drunk and I didn’t want you like that. I didn’t want you to wake up in the morning and think you’d made a mistake. I did what I did for your own good.”

“What?” you murmured.

Steve released you, spun around, and began pacing the room. “Did you know I went back to your room to check on you? Or that I sat in the chair next to your bed until dawn, wondering if I’d made a mistake? And I’ve been wondering if I made a mistake every goddamn day since? I was afraid it was the alcohol talking, that you were only there because you were drunk and if something  _ had _  happened, you would regret it later. Jesus, Y/N, for an empath, you suck at reading people.”

You rose to your feet and crossed the room, coming to a stop in front of Steve, your hand on his arm, stopping him from pacing anymore. “You really did that? Sat in my room?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Steve shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “And I guess maybe a part of me was hoping you would wake up while I was there, sober.”

“So, that regret I was feeling from you,” you whispered. “Was it regret that nothing happened? Was that what it was?”

Steve nodded.

“And the confusion, the anger?”

“Confused because I didn’t know what I’d done to piss off, angry because I had pissed you off,” he answered. “And about a million other emotions I did my best to hide from you.”

“Yeah? And what might those be?”

Steve blinked and the corner of his mouth tipped up in a decided smirk. He took a step closer to you, closing the distance between you to mere inches. His hand drifted down your bare, drawing goosebumps to the surface. He took your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours. “Come here,” he ordered, pulling you after him. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you into his lap, his hands on your thighs, sliding under the edge of your skirt.

“Desire,” he murmured, staring up at you.

You moaned quietly, leaned forward, and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, your fingers on the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them, your nails grazing his rock hard chest.

“What else?” you whispered.

“Need,” he growled, his hands now on your waist, pushing beneath your blouse, tugging it up and off. “I need you, Y/N.”

Steve ran his hands up your back to your bra, pausing for a moment to look at you, waiting. When you nodded, he unhooked it, pulling it down your arms, letting your breasts fall free. He groaned low in the back of his throat, his eyes black with lust. His mouth closed around the nipple, completely encompassing it, laving it with his tongue even as he kneaded it gently.

You reached between your bodies and unbuckled Steve’s belt, quickly pulling his pants open and yanking the front of his boxers down, not freeing him completely, but enough that you could wrap your hand around his hardening length.

“Shit,” he groaned, mouthing his way up your chest, to your neck to your mouth, finally catching your lips in his. His grip on you tightened as he lifted you and rolled you to your back, then he rose up on his knees between your legs and hurriedly stripped off his clothes, his eyes never leaving yours. Once he’d completely removed his clothes, he pushed up your skirt and slipped his fingers in either side of your silky underwear and slowly slid them down your legs, stopping every few inches to press a kiss to your knee, your ankle, your calf. He dropped the lacy fabric to the floor, then he pulled your skirt off before leaning over and kissing you.

“I’ve been wanting to do this ever since that night,” Steve purred. His hand slid down your stomach and between your legs, slowly caressing you. “God, you’re so wet.” He brought his hand to his mouth, licking his damp fingers, before pressing another kiss to your lips and positioning himself at the edge of the bed, his head between your legs.

You moaned, your eyes rolling back in your head. “You don’t have to do that, Steve,” you gasped, shaking your head.

“Oh, but I do,” he growled.

A wave of desire rolled over you, so strong, so overwhelming, you felt lightheaded, dizzy, unglued, your body’s response to the emotions coming from Steve. Desire, need, want, impatience.

His tongue darted out, gently lapping at the lips of your pussy, his hands on your thighs, pushing your legs open as his lips wrapped around your clit, one finger teasing at your entrance. Your hips bucked up, a groan escaping you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered, one hand over your face, your cheeks hot with embarrassment.

“Oh, doll, don’t you dare apologize,” he said, his head coming up, his eyes locked on yours. “You enjoy every second of this. I know I am.” He dropped his head, sucked your clit between his lips, and pushed two fingers inside of you, a low growl rumbling through his chest.

You closed your eyes and let yourself get lost in the sensations, the emotions working their way through you, obscene moans coming from you as Steve fucked you with his mouth and fingers. You scrambled for purchase, something to hold onto, something to ground you, your hands finally settling on the back of his head, holding him against you as he worked to get you off. It wasn’t long before your walls were clenching at Steve’s fingers, your thighs clamping down on his head, and you were drawing in short, stuttering breaths, moaning his name as you came.

Steve stayed between your legs, working you through the orgasm, his fingers digging into your ass as he held you close, his head moving side to side, his beard scratching and burning the inside of your thighs.

“Jesus, Steve,” you gasped when you were able to speak again, “that was unbelievable.”

He chuckled, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs, your stomach, your breasts, as he moved up your body until his hips were nestled against yours, his cock brushing against your overheated core. You put a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down to lick at his lips, pushed a hand between your bodies and took hold of him, guiding him to your entrance, your leg hooking around the back of his thigh as he slowly sank into you.

Once he was fully seated, he paused, holding himself still inside of you, staring into your eyes, your senses overwhelmed with emotions you weren’t expecting. 

Tears sprang to your eyes and you couldn’t breathe, not until he leaned over you and brushed a kiss across your lips, totally intimate, completely perfect.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he whispered, somehow knowing and understanding exactly what you were feeling. He grabbed your hand, holding it tightly in his, and tilted his hips, up and into you, burying himself inside of you.

Steve took his time, his thrusts slow and even, his cock brushing your sweet spot with every pump of his hips, his lips on yours, nibbling gently, groaning as you opened your mouth, your tongue brushing against his.

You were gasping, moaning, writhing beneath him, your nails digging into his back as he pounded into you. You scratched at his back, dragging long, red welts in his skin with your nails, and then you were coming, the orgasm exploding out of you, every nerve, every muscle, every inch of you drowning in ecstasy.

Steve growled, his hand on your shoulder as he thrust one last time, burying himself deep inside of you, his entire body tensing as he came.

He kept his arms around you when it was over, rolling to his side, one hand in the small of your back, the other cupping the back of your head, holding you close as he kissed you breathless. His thumbs brushed away the tears slowly rolling down your cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “I’m just a little...overwhelmed by all the emotions.” You smiled at him, cupped his cheek, and scratched your fingers through his beard.

“Sorry,” he grinned. “I’ll try to control them.”

You giggled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t,” you whispered. “It’s okay, really.”

Steve sighed, his forehead pressed to yours. “We should probably get some sleep. Back to work in the morning, playing the happy couple.”

“I don’t think we’re going to have to fake that,” you smiled. “Not anymore.”

“Thank God,” Steve chuckled, one eyebrow raised. “Pretending not to be in love with you while pretending to be in love with you was not easy.”

You blushed and closed your eyes, shaking your head a little. You sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm your rising heart rate and frazzled nerves, before the emotions swept you away.

_ Desire. _

_ Need. _

_ Love. _


End file.
